


Tender Touch

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Vienna Blood (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Medical Procedures, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: When Max discovers Oskar has had a potentially fatal accident, he jumps in to treat him. Both men are forced to think about what they mean to each other, without knowing how the other feels.  But there are clues.
Relationships: Max Liebermann/Oskar Rheinhardt
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16





	Tender Touch

**Author's Note:**

> There are scenes of wound care that are somewhat detailed, if that sort of thing disturbs.

Max had been out of the city for nearly a week, escorting Leah and Daniel while Daniel was on a school holiday. When he returned, he telephoned Oskar at the station to have dinner with him, only to find that he'd gone home early, something very unlike him. Max took a cab to the house, knocking several times with no response. Slightly alarmed, he reached in a flower pot on the windowsill and withdrew the key he knew was there. Just as he was about to use it, the door opened.

Oskar, flushed and sweating, held onto the door frame with one hand while keeping his other arm protectively over his abdomen.

Max helped him back into the house and to sit at the table.

"What's wrong, Oskar?" He expected a gruff retort that nothing was wrong, but instead Oskar closed his eyes in pain.

"I have..a small wound that..isn't healing." Oskar seemed short of breath. Max's blood ran cold.

"How long has it troubled you?" he asked, taking Oskar's wrist and feeling for his pulse. As he feared, it was very fast.

"It happened four days ago I think, and it started to hurt me the day before yesterday. It's getting more painful," Oskar admitted. "It was just a small cut from a knife, during an arrest," he sighed.

Max tried to keep his voice calm and not reveal the alarm he felt.

"Oskar, listen to me, please, and don't fight me in this. I need to take a look at your wound, and I need to do something about the infection quickly," he urged.

Oskar closed his eyes again.

"All right. I am..a little concerned. I didn't know where to go. You weren't here to ask. I don't like this," he admitted. Max could see fear in his eyes.

"Let's get you lying down, at least, and a little more comfortable," Max coaxed, helping him up and into the bedroom. That Oskar wasn't protesting at all was disturbing.

He helped him undress down to his underclothes, and peeled his vest off as gently as he could, unhappy at the dark stain that stuck the fabric to the skin of his abdomen.

The wound was certainly infected - red and angry, swollen, and slightly oozing pus. It was hot to the touch, as was Oskar's forehead. The situation was as serious as he'd feared.

"I'm going to use your telephone. I need my medical bag and a few other things, but I'm not going to leave to go and get them. I'll ask Leah to come. You should be in hospital. I'll do my best, but I can't promise you won't have to go to hospital, if I can't stop this," Max told him.

"I trust you," Oskar rasped, beads of sweat now appearing on his forehead.

"Just lie here, don't try to get up," Max urged as he rose to call. Oskar grunted in pained surrender.

After Max had spoken with Leah, he went into the kitchen and put the largest pot he could find on the stove after he'd filled it. They were going to need plenty of boiled water.

"Do you have old, clean cloths? They must be clean," Max insisted, standing in the bedroom doorway. Oskar shivered. Chills along with fever was not a good sign.

"In the hall closet, on the bottom shelf," he responded.

Max went to retrieve them, and placed them next to the bed. "Leah will bring more. Do you have any ice?"

"It was delivered yesterday. In the pantry is an ice box." Oskar's voice sounded weak.

Max took one of the cloths and went into the pantry. He chipped some ice off into the cloth and brought it back to the bedroom, placing the cloth on the wound.

Oskar groaned deeply with relief.

"You think..I might die from this," he whispered.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Max answered. "There are things which must be done. Painful things, I'm sorry to tell you. I'll give you something, but it will hurt regardless."

"You won't need to do that," Oskar blustered. Max smiled sadly, gripping his hand.

"Yes, I will. I'm sorry, my friend. It's going to be unpleasant," he sighed.

"It's my fault, isn't it? I should have had it looked at I suppose. Now I'll pay the price, whatever that is." Oskar looked tired and fearful.

"Don't," Max murmured. "It's not your fault and you shouldn't think of it as any sort of punishment," he chided gently. "It was an accident in the line of your duty, nothing more. I need to see to things, I'll be back in a minute or two," he promised, rising.

While he was gone, there was a noise at the door, then voices. Oskar had assumed Max's sister would bring him the things he needed and leave. He was dismayed to see her standing in the bedroom doorway, putting on an apron.

"Frau Liebermann, forgive me," he murmured. "Max should have kept you away from this."

"I have helped Max before, Inspector. No need to be embarrassed." Leah gave him a kindly smile.

Oh, he didn't like this. Not at all.

"I'm going to need help with this first treatment, Oskar. Leah has assisted me, as she says, and knows what she's doing. There is no other choice, except for you to go to hospital and perhaps acquire a worse infection there. No one wants that, do they?" Max asked quietly

Oskar sighed. He glanced apprehensively at the doctor's bag and the other things on the bed, feeling a little sick to his stomach.

"I'm going to open the wound and enlarge it slightly, and flush out as much of the infection as I can with solutions that should help to kill the bacteria. We'll need to do it several times over the next few days until things start to improve. As they do improve, it won't be so uncomfortable. It will get better, Oskar."

As he spoke, Max poured a red-brown substance into a couple of inches of water in a glass.

"Drink all of this," he directed. Max held the glass as Oskar, by now tense, quite feverish and increasingly apprehensive, drank.

"In a few minutes you should feel drowsy, and a bit strange. You'll feel less anxious, and the pain will hopefully be blunted. Just let the medicine do its work, don't fight against it. You don't need to watch. In fact, I don't want you to. Lie down," Max directed, helping him to slide down flat.

He dipped one of the cloths Leah had brought into cool water and wiped Oskar's face and neck. As good as it felt, it was simply Max's touch that was most soothing.

"Open for the thermometer."

As his body shook with occasional chills, Oskar concentrated on not biting the thing. When Max removed it, Oskar heard him stifle a groan. He should be alarmed, but he wasn't. Everything seemed removed, somehow.

Oskar heard the soft rustles of their activity, the whispers between Max and Leah. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he did feel different. It was not at all an unpleasant feeling. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"How are you feeling?"

"A bit..drunk," Oskar described. "It's..nice," he mumbled.

"All right, then we can begin. Bite down on this if you need to. Yell if you need to." Max put a twisted up handkerchief into his mouth.

Oskar thought Max was over-anticipating the discomfort he would feel - until he experienced a cold liquid being poured over the wound which was soothing for a second or two, then began to burn like fire. He could feel it fizzing and bubbling, heard it too, and wondered if Max was pouring acid into the wound. He groaned and found himself biting down hard.

"I know. I'm sorry," Max murmured. If he'd thought that was the worst of it, Oskar soon learned it was far from it. The next onslaught was alcohol, he knew by the smell. The pain was excruciating, and he couldn't keep from crying out, his body shaking with the pain and the effort not to scream.

After that, Oskar was actually hoping for more medicine to dull his agony, but none was offered. The burning chemicals were gone, but the wound was open now and very angry. He felt the pressure of liquid being forced into it, which hurt, but the liquid itself did not.

"It's only water now," Max said, and some of the tension left him. Something was placed in the wound and after that, a sticky substance that was slightly soothing to the throbbing pain. Finally, a dressing was placed over the wound and secured.

"It's done, Oskar. How are you?" Max asked, a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I am still here," Oskar whispered, utterly exhausted.

"You did very well. Truly. I'm going to get a cab for Leah, and I'll be back. Only a moment or two. Can I trust that you won't be trying to get up?"

At that, Oskar was tempted to curse quite explicitly, but remembered Leah's presence.

"Very amusing. Thank you, Frau Liebermann," he acknowledged.

"Of course, Inspector. I hope you recover quickly." A hand covered his briefly, and the room was silent.

Everything hurt. The wound itself, his arms and legs, his jaw. His head ached. He had to relieve himself. He also felt as weak as a kitten and miserable with fever. He really needed the pain to back off a little. What he could not say was touch me again in comfort, Max, it helps. You being here helps. Stay with me, please.

"Rest now, but first you should eat something." Max stood in the doorway regarding him thoughtfully. He held a basin and some towels.

"The last thing I want to do is eat, Max," Oskar frowned. "And I must get up for a moment."

"No getting up, I'm afraid. And there's no need." Max's mouth quirked as he opened a drawer in the nightstand and withdrew a seldom-used chamber pot, glad it had not been discarded. He helped Oskar to use it, and disposed of the contents.

"I think a bribe is in order at this point."

"What sort of bribe?"

"Leah has brought a few days' worth of food. For tonight, there is chicken soup. Finish a mug of soup and I'll make sure you sleep soundly. It's part of the treatment, that soup. But first-"

Max put the bowl on the nightstand and dipped a towel in it, then wrung it out of water. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he began to wipe Oskar down.

The towel was cold, and felt wonderful. He knew he was moaning with relief and didn't care. Again, he appreciated Max's touch as much as the coolness on his fever, and wanted to dare to grasp his hand, but didn't.

"That's good. Thank you," Oskar sighed. Max folded a smaller cloth and lay it on Oskar's forehead before going into the kitchen.

He returned in a few minutes with a mug of soup and placed a pillow behind him for support.

"It smells very good." Oskar hadn't imagined himself hungry at all, but the aroma of the soup was wonderful.

"Leah made it herself, yesterday. She's a good cook."

Oskar held the cup in both hands and took a sip. He closed his eyes in pleasure and drank a little.

"It's delicious. I don't have such cooking any more."

"She'll be pleased to hear it," Max smiled. Oskar looked embarrassed at the thought, but nodded.

"Yes, tell her," he agreed. He surprised himself with how quickly he finished it.

"Would you like more?"

"No, it was enough. But I'm glad you insisted." _I'm so glad you're here, dear Max._

Max held out a couple of white tablets. Aspirin, something Max approved of, Oskar knew. He took them without comment, hoping they would help the burning pain.

"Time for some rest now, Oskar. Your body needs it to heal, and you deserve it. Tomorrow I'll need to clean your wound again, and the day after that. Your fever is still high and you're still in danger."

He helped Oskar to lie down again, straightened the bedclothes, and pulled up the sheets. He then went to his bag and withdrew a vial and a syringe. Oskar hated needles.

"Maybe I don't need-"

"After all you've gone through, a little needle prick is nothing. Close your eyes. You don't have to look, and very soon you'll be asleep until morning."

Oskar sighed and nodded, and did close his eyes.

"Good night, my friend," Max murmured, closing his bag and switching off all but a single dim light.

He waited until Oskar's breathing evened out and his arms went slack before he went into the dining room and poured himself a brandy, which he consumed quickly in order to down another. He forced himself to eat some of the soup, and checked on the bread Leah had brought at his instruction. About a quarter loaf sat on the kitchen counter, shot with bits of green mold. The moulding process would progress, and tomorrow it would be ready to use. It didn't always help with infections, but it did often enough to be worth a try. He would try anything to help Oskar

Max took a third brandy into the bedroom, where Oskar snored softly. His tense shoulders dropped in relief at the reassuring sound, and he allowed himself to sink into the rocking chair on the opposite side of the bed, kicking his shoes off. He closed his eyes in weariness, shivering slightly.

Oskar had no idea how ill he was, how dangerously close to fatal his small infection had gotten. Max had seen patients die of similar wounds infected beyond the point of healing. He'd needed to be calm and reassuring, not wanting to alarm Oskar more than he already was, but it was difficult. He was not out of danger and still needed to be watched over until his fever was gone and the wound showed good evidence of healing.

If only he'd been here, things wouldn't have gotten this far. Oskar was a very positive presence in his life. Working with him, being with him, restored his spirits in a way nothing and no one else did, especially after his disastrous broken engagement and its repercussions. His relationship with Oskar had taken over his life and he was quite content with that. He couldn't lose him, it didn't bear thinking about.

After some time, he rose and bent over the basin of water, wringing out a cloth, and wiped his face, neck and chest. Oskar was still flushed and sweating with fever and needed to be kept comfortable. Max continued his care throughout most of the night, finally succumbing to exhaustion, lying curled up on the bed next to Oskar. He fell asleep to soft snores and the slow rise and fall of the broad chest.

***

Oskar came to consciousness hurting. He had thought he might wake and be good as new, but clearly that was not the case. The room was light enough that it must be morning, but early or late he could not guess. Max slept beside him, lips parted, limbs contorted, trying not to disturb him. Max was so very dear to him. When had it happened that he relied on his friend so much, not only for help with his cases but for company and companionship. He enjoyed being with Max. He hadn't had such a friend in a very long time.

Oskar's gaze fell on the long lashes that rested against Max's cheek. He had a sudden desire to brush his fingers over the pale, delicate flesh. But he could not, he knew that. Max aroused feelings in him that he hadn't experienced in years, and other feelings that were new to him. Desire, he understood, but the overwhelming tenderness that came over him when he thought of Max was a surprise.

He must have shifted or made a noise, as suddenly Max's eyes opened, searching his face anxiously.

"Oskar. How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting up.

"My belly hurts, and the fever is still here, but I don't feel worse."

"I need to take a look, and flush the wound again. Just give me a moment to-"

"No. You should make coffee and drink it, take your time. I think you must have been awake most of the night," Oskar ventured, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

"If I do one thing first," Max agreed. He reached into his bag and brought out the thermometer. Oskar silently opened his mouth and they waited, as Max checked his pulse. At least, Oskar thought, he wasn't really frowning this time, or trying to hide his dismay.

"Not as bad as yesterday, but not improved as much as I'd hoped. Your fever is still very concerning, your pulse still too fast," Max revealed, "but I will make the coffee and bring you some breakfast," he acknowledged, "and we can sit and enjoy it for a few minutes."

A dose of aspirin was given, help to the toilet and back to bed, and Oskar closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Max in the kitchen. Max making himself at home in this lonely house. Once, the realization that he needed Max would have angered him. Now it both frightened and saddened him, because it led him to thoughts of what his life would be like if Max went on to a life of his own, perhaps even leaving Vienna and returning to London. He was brilliantly clever, a good doctor on the leading edge of all that was new in medicine and this new science of the mind. Vienna, and especially Leopoldstadt, would not hold him forever. But he mustn't dwell on that. Max was here with him now, and would be with him until he was well, taking care of him with cheer and kindness. He should not be thinking of more.

In the kitchen, Max prepared coffee for the two of them, a small bowl of porridge for Oskar which Leah had left, and soft rolls with butter and jam. He needed to get food into Oskar without pushing too hard. He was not out of the woods yet and needed careful looking after for another couple of days at least. Things could still turn bad again. God only knew what his father and mother would think of his not coming home, no matter what Leah would have told them. Living at home was becoming increasingly confining, and there was really no good excuse for him to have his own place since his broken engagement.

He brought it all to Oskar on a tray. Since he was still feverish, he struggled to eat and drink, having little strength or real appetite.

"Just try," Max coaxed. "It's all I ask."

"Why are you so kind to me?" Oskar wondered aloud. "I don't deserve it, for my foolishness, and all the times I'm cross with you."

Max seemed surprised at the question. 

"Because you do, of course, deserve it, and because I don't want to see you suffer. Because you're important to me. How else should it be, when my friend needs a doctor?" he asked. "Now, let's get down to business." He took the tray back to the kitchen and returned to set his medical bag on the bed.

He was important to Max, and Max cared about him. Whatever else might or might not come, that was a wonderful thing to know. As Oskar watched Max prepare, he marveled at how meticulous he was, how methodical and thorough. He really was a good doctor.

"Are you going to give me that medicine to drink?" he asked in hope. He was not looking forward to a repeat of yesterday's ordeal.

"Hopefully no. It was best to do it that way yesterday because I didn't know what we were dealing with, and I needed Leah's help. Today I know. If this injection works you should have almost no pain."

"I like the sound of that."

Max undid the the dressing and loosened it from the wound. Oskar hissed a time or two. He didn't want to look but did anyway, curiosity getting the better of him.

The dressing was foul-smelling, pale pink and yellow. Max removed a small rubber drain he'd placed in the wound and cleaned and disinfected it, laying it carefully aside.

"Is that from the wound?" Oskar asked, feeling queasy.

"Yes. More of the poison that's inside you. Even with what we're doing, the material continues to drain. You'll need that drain for several more days to be sure there's nothing left to start the infection up again. It looks slightly better, but not as much as I want to see."

Max took a vial from the bag and pulled some of its contents up into a syringe.

"This will be uncomfortable while I'm injecting it, but once it begins to work you should feel no pain in the wound. It's something new."

He put the needle in just above the wound, and Oskar yelped.

"Damn, that burns. Ah!" he winced as the needle moved around the perimeter of the wound. "Are you experimenting on me?"

Max shook his head. "No, there's already been a fair amount of use. I had it at the dentist a few months ago, and I'm still here," he teased, finishing and withdrawing the needle. "Now we just wait a few minutes for it to take effect."

"How will I know when it does?"

"You'll see," Max replied enigmatically. He looked at his watch, then proceeded to set everything out that he needed. After several minutes, he reached out to examine the wound and Oskar flinched in anticipation.

To his great surprise he felt nothing, no pain, not even Max's touch. He watched him pour the bubbling liquid into his wound and still felt nothing.

"My God," he marveled.

"I'm glad you don't feel anything."

"I don't. Why didn't you use that yesterday?"

"I would have preferred to of course, but it wasn't a good idea to add it to your treatment just then. I'm sorry. I don't like to think of you in pain," Max sighed. He used the alcohol again, and the water flush.

"I'll be back directly," he announced, disappearing into the other room. When he returned, Oskar regarded him in shocked disbelief.

"What the hell is that? It looks like moldy bread."

"It is exactly that. The mold is known to stop infections. We don't know precisely how or why it works, only that it does," Max explained. Oskar watched in disbelief as he returned the small drain to the wound, then pressed the mold against the site, adhering it with honey from a small jar.

"You are joking," he muttered.

"Honey also helps infections. That, we have known for thousands of years," Max returned, finishing up re-bandaging the wound. "There isn't much of anything else that has an effect on serious infections. I didn't want you to _die,_ Oskar," finished quietly but fiercely.

The look on his face was like a punch to the heart for Oskar. _Oh Max._

"Max. I trust you know what you're doing. I really do. It's just surprising. And I make jokes, and tease you, because I'm nervous. I'm sorry. You are incredible, and you have saved my life. Thank you," he offered sincerely, reaching out a hand, which Max took with a smile.

"It's all right, I understand. I'm sorry, I can sometimes be inappropriately emotional," he sighed, shrugging off the appreciation and the emotion behind it. His eyes, though, betrayed his true feelings.

"I liked it. You should do it more often."

_Scheiss, Oskar, you'll frighten him, put him off._

"Sometimes, I want to, but - it's not something a man does." He made a face imitating the scorn of others.

"I would like you to be yourself with me, whoever you are. There is nothing lacking in you, Max."

He looked down, and possibly blushed. "Thank you. That means a great deal to me," Max murmured, shy now. _Nothing lacking in me? If you only knew._

"I like you for who you are. You don't need to hide yourself from me."

"I feel the same about you." _But you have nothing to hide, while I ..._

"So here we are," Oskar offered, squeezing Max's hand. His genuine, sweet smile was everything.

The rest of the day consisted of Oskar napping, Max giving him aspirin, making sure he ate, and keeping him comfortable. By evening, his fever was down enough that Max allowed himself to breathe a sigh of real relief. He knew things might not have turned out well at all, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

Oskar got up for dinner, sitting not at the table but in his comfortable chair by the fire with his feet up, finishing the meal with their traditional brandy, minus the cigar. Max took the dishes into the kitchen and washed them, his unexpected domesticity charming Oskar.

When he returned, Oskar felt two hands come to rest on his shoulders, kneading gently. He closed his eyes in bliss. _Please, yes._

"Tell me to stop if-" Max blurted awkwardly, skittish.

"No, don't stop," Oskar purred. Yes, of course, the massage of his tense muscles felt good, but it wasn't that, not really. It was Max feeling comfortable enough and intimate enough with him to do it that was the real pleasure. As he continued, Oskar sensed nothing except a desire to comfort. It was simply a tender act of affection, which he treasured. He could so easily be lost in that touch.

When it was time for bed, he spoke up.

"There is a blanket in the chest."

"Thank you."

Oskar felt peace and contentment in having him there. At some point in the night, however, he was awakened by Max turning and twitching, whimpering in distress in his sleep. He put out a hand to Max's shoulder, rubbing softly.

"Shhhh."

Max whimpered again, frowning, but quieted when Oskar very lightly stroked his hair, then stilled. He felt that tenderness well up in him again that was only for Max.

***

Oskar was awakened by something tickling his nose. Max's head lay on his shoulder, his mussed hair the culprit. Oh, this was sweet. Very sweet, to lie here like this. He sighed contentedly and enjoyed it until Max woke, perhaps half an hour later. 

This time when Max took his temperature he actually smiled and nodded, satisfied. The daily cleaning of the wound went smoothly. There was much less tenderness at the site, and less drainage too. The moldy bread was applied again, and aspirin given.

"I must go home for a few hours or my parents will think I've abandoned the family. I'll be back for supper and I'll bring it with me," Max advised. "Please, don't do anything strenuous that would aggravate your wound, it's just beginning to heal. Get up and move about, but don't overdo it. I'd hate all this effort to be wasted on a disobedient patient," he frowned, but his eyes danced.

"Oh, yes, doctor. Absolutely. Will you bring some beer as well?" Oskar asked hopefully.

"Well..it is considered a healthy drink, used to build up invalids," Max acknowledged with a smile. "A good point."

After he left, Oskar fought the house's silence and the lump in his throat. It was so good having Max here that his absence even for a short while was depressing. Max's presence was something he had come to count on even before this. Max took him out of himself and reminded him that life should be enjoyed. There was a name for this feeling, and the tenderness, but he wouldn't allow himself to pronounce it even in his own mind. That was a hope of far too much.

Although Max missed his home and his family, his time with Oskar was reminding him how much he enjoyed his company and how drawn to him he felt. How perfectly right it had felt waking close to him, comfortable and comforting. Since this particular feeling was new, even though it made him happy it also puzzled and disconcerted him. In a corner of his mind, he had an idea of what was happening but was afraid to think about it. To reveal himself and be rebuffed would be too painful, and risked losing what he had. The pull, however, was becoming stronger.

He arrived back at Oskar's with a hot meal from Café Bellaria, pastries, and several bottles of good beer. Max had not drunk beer since his university days, but Oskar had renewed his taste for it. In turn, Oskar was learning to appreciate the wines Max sometimes provided for their meals. He'd begun to feel more at home at Oskar's than with his family.

"My God, is it Christmas and I hadn't noticed?" Oscar marveled at the food and drink Max brought inside.

"It's just a simple dinner," Max shrugged, embarrassed.

"Which consists of dishes you know I like. Thank you." 

Max could wish that Oskar wasn't quite so observant.

They both enjoyed the meal, and the quiet time afterward, although Max seemed nervous. Something was occupying his mind.

"What is it?" he finally asked as they took their after-dinner libation. Max looked at him for a moment, seemed as if he was about to speak, then shook his head.

"Nothing, really. How does your wound feel?"

Oskar rolled his eyes.

"It's getting better. I have less pain every day. It's only just sore now, if I'm careful. I will live, thanks to you."

"You must remain careful of it for several more days," Max fussed. "I'm concerned that once you're back to work, you won't."

Oskar cocked an eye at him.

"Are you applying for the job of caretaker?" He was surprised to see Max's cheeks go bright crimson and his gaze lock on his own, shy but intent.

"If you'll have me," Max answered softly.

There it was, his impossible dream. There was so much to ask, to unravel, and to wonder about. Nothing to do with Max Liebermann was ever going to be simple. The basic yes or no, though, _was_ simple, whatever else might happen.

"You would like to share the house with me, live here?"

"Yes. But I'd understand if you don't want to. I know I'm difficult to live with." Max had the unsure, feeling unloved look Oskar had seen before, the times he'd wanted to hug him and tell him he was cared about and valued.

"I'm not the only one who needs looking after, I think. Someone has to keep you in check so that you don't insult half of Vienna."

Max quirked his brow in that infuriatingly endearing way he had. "You have a point. And you'd be willing to do that? To look after me? I'm not-"

"Stop it. I prefer to think of all the things you are, not your less admirable qualities. Yes, I would like to have you here. Your friendship and your companionship are very important to me. _You_ are important to me. All of you. No matter what. All right?"

"Yes," Max nodded. "All right. Yes, then. Thank you."

There was much unsaid and many questions on both sides were unanswered, but what was most important now was that it was a beginning. Asking much more at this stage would shake their fledgling relationship unnecessarily.

During the rest of the evening, instead of the atmosphere remaining awkward it was as if a wall had come down. Max smiled, and even laughed. He was happy, and relieved. This in turn cheered Oskar. They tidied the kitchen and put away the food side by side. Max was still mindful of not over-tiring Oskar, and after they were through he suggested that it was perhaps time for him to get some rest.

The wound was examined, temperature and aspirin taken, and Max was satisfied. But since Oskar was so improved there was really no need to remain with him through the night or share his bed.

"You're doing well my friend, and I can let you get some real rest without another body to crowd the bed and disturb you. I'll sleep on the sofa tonight," he proposed.

"And when you're living here, you'll sleep on the sofa every night or sleep in Mitzi's bed?" Oskar scoffed quietly. "No. We will share this bed, as we have done for the past few nights. That doesn't need to change as far as I'm concerned. And I think you would prefer it too."

Max scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Oskar-"

"Whatever it is, we'll deal with it together. Unless I've read everything you've revealed to me these past days very wrong indeed - well, I am a detective, and I don't think I have. Just come to bed. We have time now, after all."

Max swallowed, sort of shook himself, visibly, and nodded. He took off his clothes down to his undergarments and slipped between the sheets. It was chilly in the room, and he yearned for Oskar's body heat even as fear threatened to surface.

"Come here." Oskar's hand, warm at his flank, urged him gently closer. He rolled back a little until there were only a few centimeters between them. Oskar's breath warmed the nape of his neck, and a hand stroked his hair softly, mesmerizing. Fear warred with bliss.

"Shhh, now. Sweet dreams, Max." Oskar's voice soothed him as it always did, and Max found himself drifting off in spite of himself, feeling safe and secure. This was what he'd been wanting and needing all along, even when he hadn't known it.

" _Süße Träume,_ Oskar," he sighed.

- _To be continued-_

**Author's Note:**

> The medical details have been researched to circa 1905. All treatments were either in use, or new but known about and Max would have been aware of them. The treatment would not be considered best practice today, but in 1905 it was all they had that might have been effective. If you have ever used or had them used on you, they should hopefully be recognizable.
> 
> There is more to Max's hesitations than meets the eye. An explanatory sequel is planned.


End file.
